


Pinky

by wheel_pen



Series: Miscellaneous Enterprise Stories [2]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, alien baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip and Malcolm become attached to an alien baby they have to care for after their ships crash on the same planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinky

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Malcolm held his hand up to shade his eyes as he gazed across the horizon, trying to determine the source of the engine-like rumble they'd heard. His chatty companion was not making it easy.

"Do you think it's a ship?" Trip asked eagerly. "I think it's a ship. Do you think it's the shuttlepod? Do you think they found us?"

"Yes, I think it's a ship," Malcolm decided slowly, his tone cautious. "Take the baby and go behind the tent."

"Malcolm!" Trip complained.

"Go," Malcolm told him, in a tone that offered no room for argument.

"Okay, come on, Pinky," Trip grumbled, picking up the makeshift basket containing the alien baby. He supposed he could have challenged Malcolm, being the higher-ranking officer, but he somehow had the feeling Malcolm had _no_ intention of hiding behind the tent with the baby himself... and _someone_ ought to do it. Just in case the ship _wasn't_ from _Enterprise_.

Malcolm watched to make sure Trip and the baby indeed went behind the tent as instructed, then he returned to watching the ship. It was clearly headed for them, but the angle of approach was such that he couldn't make out the profile. It could be the other _Enterprise_ shuttlepod. Or it could be another ship like the one that had crashed just over the ridge. Or it could be someone else entirely. They had no way of knowing how well-traveled this area of the planet was. Malcolm hefted his phase pistol from the bundle beside him and waited.

Trip stood behind the tent, Pinky cradled in his arms. The baby squirmed in her covering until she had worked a tentacle up to her mouth and started sucking on it. "Now if Malcolm saw that, he'd tell you to stop," Trip whispered to her. "But he's off playin' the big hero, so you just go ahead and suck on that, darlin'." He sighed, really wanting to stick his head around the tent and see what was going on. But as there was the distinct possibility that Malcolm would blow it off if he did that... Okay, yes, Malcolm was the security officer, it was his job to make sure that everyone else was safe. Trip understood that. But geez, he was a Commander, Chief Engineer—he felt plain stupid cowering behind a tent with a baby.

Whatever ship it was drew closer. "If there's any trouble, baby," he whispered to Pinky, "you're goin' back in that basket and I'm goin' out there." She blinked at him with her three huge eyes. "You'll be fine, if you just keep quiet," he assured her. "You don't want me to let Uncle Malcolm get hurt, do you? Well, alright then."

"Trip!" Malcolm shouted suddenly, and Trip dropped to a crouch to set Pinky in her basket and run out to help. "It's Shuttlepod Two!"

"Well, hallelujah," Trip murmured.

Malcolm poked his head around the tent. "Didn't you hear me? It's _Enterprise_!"

"Yes, I heard you," Trip told him, tucking the cloth more firmly around Pinky.

"You don't seem thrilled," Malcolm observed.

"Oh, h—l yeah, I'm ready to get back to civilization," Trip assured him. "Showers and hot food and clean clothes and real beds..." He shook his head. "But that pod settin' down is gonna kick up a lot of dust. I don't want to get the baby in it. It can't be good for her."

Malcolm nodded reasonably. "No sucking," he ordered Pinky firmly, pulling the tentacle out of her mouth.

Trip rolled his eyes. "You just wait, Phlox is gonna tell us that's essential for her development," he threatened. "She's probably gonna lose fifty IQ points because of you."

Malcolm did not look worried about that. "I'll go meet them," he decided, leaving Trip with the baby.

Archer was the first one out of the pod, looking over the ramshackle campsite with equal parts pride and concern. He should have known his officers would be able to make the best of rough circumstances. Or at least one of them had—Malcolm was the only person he saw.

"Malcolm! Are you okay?" he asked, approaching the security officer who was already packing up his salvaged gear.

"Just fine, sir," Reed assured him. "Sorry about the state of undress, sir..." Up close Archer realized that Malcolm seemed to have lost the top half of his uniform, although the black vest normally worn underneath it appeared intact. Also up close he realized that his Tactical Officer hadn't been able to bathe properly for the time they'd been stranded. But hey, stinky was just fine with Archer as long it was accompanied by alive.

"Don't worry about it, Malcolm," Archer replied, taking his shoulder. He felt like hugging the man, stinky or not, but he thought Malcolm would floor him if he tried it. "Where's Trip? Is he okay?"

"Oh yes, Commander Tucker is fine," Reed answered. "I'm afraid the shuttlepod is pretty much in pieces by now, though, sir."

"We can get another shuttlepod," Archer told him. "It's you and Trip we can't replace." He glanced around the campsite. "Where _is_ Trip, anyway?"

"He's behind the tent with the—Oh, good, you brought Dr. Phlox," Malcolm remarked. "Doctor! I think we've got someone for you to examine." Phlox headed over to them helpfully.

"You said you two weren't hurt," Archer reminded him, confused.

"Well, I don't _think_ anyone is hurt," Malcolm replied, which Archer didn't find reassuring. "Trip! Come on out, the dust has settled."

Trip emerged from behind the tent, carrying a large bundle wrapped in what appeared to be a black Starfleet-issue vest—probably Trip's, as he was down to his blue Starfleet-issue undershirt. "D—n, Captain, sure is good to see you," he declared cheerfully. "Thought me and Malcolm were gonna be stuck on this rock until the end of time!"

"Sorry, we had some trouble locating the pod's beacon," Archer apologized, feeling lame even as he said it. It had seemed much more involved and difficult than that when they were all sitting on the comfortable, clean ship. "What's that?" He gestured towards the bundle in Trip's arms.

"There was another pod that crashed with us, sir," Reed began somberly.

"Yes, we saw it on our scans," Archer agreed. "Were there any survivors?"

"Just one," Trip told them. He lifted the bundle a little bit. "Come on now," he encouraged the bundle gently. "Come on out and say hello." Everyone leaned forward expectantly, Phlox glancing at his scanner as he did so. Something moved inside the cloth and began to sneak up over the edge. It was... an eye. Just an eye. An _enormous_ eye. That blinked.

"J---s C----t," Archer breathed, fighting the urge to step back.

The eye ducked back down into the blankets rapidly. "Aw, you scared her, Captain," Trip chastised. "She's kinda shy around strangers."

"What do you think, Doctor?" Malcolm pressed. "Is she alright? We didn't know what to feed her or anything like that..."

"Oh, I think you two have done a remarkable job, considering your lack of information," Phlox complimented, staring at his scanner results.

"Well come on," Archer prompted curiously. "What _is_ it?"

Trip adjusted the bundle in his arms and pulled the cloth away a little bit, revealing the creature within. Three enormous eyes on stalks peered around at the newcomers while two tentacles crept out to wind around Trip's arm. "This is Pinky!" he introduced.

Archer was less than enthusiastic. "Does it, um, talk?"

"No, Captain, she's just a baby," Trip explained, as though Archer should have figured that out on his own.

"Her parents—I guess—were killed in the crash," Malcolm told them. "But she seemed to be unhurt..."

"Quite well, I assure you," Phlox nodded.

"I think there's still enough left of their ship for Hoshi to look at," Trip hinted. "Maybe figure out what planet they're from... who she belongs to now..." Was it Archer's imagination, or did Trip look a little sad as he said that last part? He cleared his throat. "Uh, so, do you recognize the species, Doc?"

"Well, I've never seen one personally," Phlox admitted, "but I believe, ah, 'Pinky,' as you call her—"

"'Cause she's pink, see," Trip explained earnestly.

"Hmm, I would have said she was more salmon-colored," Phlox countered. Malcolm gave Trip a smug look. "But at any rate, I believe she may be of the Maltaxan species."

"Maltaxan?" Malcolm repeated. "No sucking," he added sternly to the baby, pulling a tentacle away from her mouth. Archer wasn't sure whether to be amused or slightly frightened.

"A rather reclusive species, normally," Phlox mused, heedless of Reed's actions. "I've never heard of them traveling this far away from their home system..."

"Well, why don't we get back to the ship, and we can look into it more there," Archer prompted, eager to get his officers and... guest... home and checked out.

"Good idea, Captain," Trip agreed. Malcolm nodded and turned away, continuing to pack up what was left of their supplies. "Um, here," Trip said, moving to hand Pinky to Dr. Phlox. "I better help Malcolm break camp." He tried to disentangle himself from the baby gently, but she obviously understood that she was being placed in the care of a stranger and objected adamantly, opening her small mouth and letting out a very loud wail.

"Goodness," Phlox remarked, slightly startled. "Nothing wrong with her lungs, is there, Captain? Or rather, her respiratory organs, which are not so much like human lungs as—"

"Is there any way to make her be quiet?" Archer interrupted, trying not to sound too peeved. She was just a baby, after all.

Trip took her back, placing her over his shoulder and rubbing her back. "Shh, shh, baby, it's okay," he told her soothingly. The crying did not abate. "She's real sensitive sometimes," he added, slightly apologetic. "Not good with change, you know?" He rocked her a little more, but Pinky did not seem to be mollified. Trip turned plaintively towards the Tactical Officer. "Malcolm," he prompted.

"No way," Malcolm said immediately. "I'm packing."

"Malcolm, come on," Trip insisted. "The Captain and I can pack." Archer glanced at Trip, wondering what Malcolm had to do with this. Trip was a natural with kids—human ones, at least. Malcolm, he couldn't quite picture with them. "Listen to her, she's real upset." He turned Pinky to face the other man. "Look at those, real tears. And her little eye-stalks are all twisted up."

Malcolm sighed, rolled his eyes, dropped what he was holding, and walked back over to them. His expression was utterly put-upon. "Alright, give her here," he agreed. Trip passed the baby to Malcolm eagerly, her tentacles trailing from one set of arms to the other. Malcolm took a breath, looked at the assembled officers watching him expectantly, and turned his back on them.

"What's he doing?" Archer inquired of Trip.

"Shh," Trip replied, with a mischievous smile.

Archer shushed. For a moment he heard nothing but the baby's bawling. Then he _thought_ he heard something else in addition to that. Something that grew louder as the baby quieted. Something that sounded like... singing.

_"Once I ran to you_

_Now I run from you_

_This tainted love you've given_

_I give you all a boy could give you_

_Take my tears and that's not nearly all..."_

Archer gaped. "Is Malcolm _singing_?!" he hissed at Trip.

"It's a classic lullaby, Captain," Trip deadpanned. He shook his head. "It's the only thing that will calm her sometimes."

"I didn't even know Malcolm could sing," Archer admitted.

"Well, he's not going to the Met, that's for sure," Trip sniggered.

Malcolm turned around, patting the back of the now-sleeping baby. "I heard that," he remarked with a glare. "And," he added, quiet but all the more menacing for it, "if I hear anything about this from anyone else—I'll know exactly who to hunt down." Archer and certainly Trip did not feel safe from this threat just because they were senior officers.

"Don't worry, Lieutenant, your secret is safe with us," Phlox assured him cheerfully, taking the dozing infant.

"Well come on," Archer repeated. "Let's pack up and get out of here."

 **

"Trip! Come look what the baby's doing!"

Since Malcolm sounded excited and not horrified, Trip figured he had a second to spit the toothpaste out of his mouth before scooting over a couple steps and peering out the bathroom door. Malcolm was sitting on the floor of Trip's cabin, holding Pinky contentedly in his arms.

"Well, she's sure cute and all," Trip drawled, "but that's hardly _new_."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Just you watch this." He maneuvered himself up on his knees and scooted closer to the door, setting Pinky gently down on the floor. Then Malcolm hurried back to his original position closer to the bed. Pinky blinked at him solemnly. "Come here, baby," Malcolm cooed. "Come here, come to Malcolm!"

Trip enjoyed yet again the sight of the usually cool and reserved Armory Officer making a fool of himself over the baby—there was a glow in his eyes, a special smile he had, that no one else was allowed to see, and Trip was becoming dangerously fond of it. He almost forgot to watch the baby, in fact. Quickly his eyes shifted back to the supposed star of the show—and immediately widened. Pinky had gotten her tentacles underneath her and was... gliding along on them towards Malcolm's outstretched arms. The effect was similar to that of a human walking on her knees, but much more rolling—perhaps if a human could _move_ her knee to any part of her leg she wanted. And if the legs didn't have bones.

"Oh my G-d," uttered Trip, breath taken. "She's... she's..." He frowned suddenly. "Is she walking or crawling?"

"I don't know," Malcolm admitted, continuing to encourage the baby. "But she's never done it before!" Pinky reached Malcolm at that moment and the dark-haired man swept her up into his arms, giving her plentiful encouragement. "What a _good_ baby! You're so smart, Pinky! You're... locomoting!" Pinky burbled happily and wound her versatile tentacles around Malcolm's arms.

"Here, here, Trip wants to play," Trip announced, sitting down on the floor near the bathroom. It wasn't exactly an expansive play area, but that was probably for the best. He clapped his hands, drawing Pinky's attention. "Come here, baby, come to Trip!"

Malcolm set her back down on the floor and gave her an encouraging pat in Trip's direction. Slowly she started to... um... slide herself towards him, her little mouth pursed with determination. Trip called out enticements, wiggling his fingers, while Malcolm watched avidly but silently so as not to confuse her. "Come here, baby. Come here, Pinky!"

Suddenly there was some kind of a hitch in one of her tentacles and Pinky wobbled—then fell flat on her face on the floor with a smack. Aghast silence reigned for a moment. "Oh my G-d, is she okay?" Malcolm exclaimed, rising to his knees.

"Wait, wait, she's moving," Trip told him, holding up a hand. Slowly, Pinky began to push herself back up with her tentacles (and quite a lot of willpower, Trip suspected) until she was fully upright again and able to finish her journey to Trip. She sagged rather exhaustedly in his arms when he scooped her up.

"That's my girl," he told her proudly, stroking her eye-stalks. They curled around his finger.

"She's not injured, is she?" Malcolm asked, crawling over.

"I don't think so," Trip assured him. "You know, it's not very far to the ground for her, after all."

"Still, that was quite a noise when she fell," Malcolm worried. "Maybe we should take her to see Dr. Phlox."

"Oh, quit fussin'," Trip insisted. "Takin' a few knocks is what babies are supposed to do. It builds character."

"Human babies, maybe," Malcolm said dubiously.

Trip tickled Pinky below her mouth and she giggled happily. He gave Malcolm a look. "You see, she's fine."

Pinky slid the tip of one tentacle into her mouth and Malcolm sighed, starting to reach for it. "No sucking," he admonished her, and to their surprise she popped the tentacle back out on her own, giving them what could be interpreted as a guilty look. Trip and Malcolm stared at her, then at each other. "Maybe she's older than we thought," Malcolm suggested.

"Or maybe she's just _really_ smart," Trip countered proudly.

** 

Trip fidgeted nervously at the airlock. Jon patted his shoulder. "I'm sure they're going to be very nice," he assured Trip.

"They'd better be," Malcolm answered instead, threateningly. "You're going to have Phlox do a genetic test on them, right? So we know they're really Pinky's uncle and aunt?"

Archer refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes, Malcolm, I am." If he had somehow failed to realize how attached his officers had gotten to the little alien baby over the last couple of weeks, he was definitely finding out now.

"You know, I don't care if it's some kind of 'cultural characteristic,' if these people are pushy or mean or anything like that—" Trip began fervently.

"Oh, they are _not_ getting this baby," Malcolm agreed, cradling Pinky in his arms.

Archer had the feeling the two were about to stage a mutiny, before the Maltaxan couple had even arrived. "Easy, fellas," he reminded them. "Let's at least meet them first, okay?"

The hiss of the airlock signaled that the door would open any minute. "Let me hold her," Trip said suddenly, turning to Malcolm.

"What for?" the Armory Officer shot back. "I'm holding her!"

"I wanna hold her," Trip insisted, reaching for the baby.

"No," Malcolm ground out. "You'll just upset her. You're too nervous."

"Like _you_ aren't nervous," Trip retorted.

"Gentlemen," Archer cut in. "Shut up."

They all quickly straightened as the airlock door rolled back and two... aliens waited hesitantly on the other side. They were roughly the same shape as Pinky—two tentacles on the lower half, three eyes on stalks on the upper, a twitching wing-hand-thing on either side—but much larger, of course.

"Please, come aboard," Archer encouraged them, his best diplomatic face in position. "I'm Captain Jonathan Archer of _Enterprise_."

One of the aliens glided forward, the other just behind. They moved by sort of rolling on their tentacles, drawing them up smoothly and pushing forward again. It was remarkably graceful. "I'm glad to meet you, Captain Archer," one alien said. "I'm Glee'Zon, and this is my wife, Qwet'Zel."

"Hello," Archer replied."Um, among humans a traditional greeting is shaking hands." He held out a limb, hoping he hadn't completely offended them.

Glee'Zon seemed to accept this and bent one of his tentacles back and over until it was level with Archer's hand. Instead of being a dull point like Pinky's, the tentacle ended with a flat hand-like appendage containing seven fingers. Archer shook it gamely.

Qwet'Zel was looking more towards Trip and Malcolm, bending around her husband's bulk to see them better. "Is that—I'm so sorry—but is that Deel'Zel?"

The moment had come. The time for the presentation of the baby. And Malcolm froze, standing unmoving in the hallway. Trip jostled his elbow and guided him to take a step forward. "Um, we call her Pinky," Malcolm choked out.

Qwet'Zel reached out with her hand-feet-things and lifted the baby gently from Malcolm's arms, holding her close. "Oh, she's so beautiful," she sighed. "She looks just like Mar'Zon, don't you think?"

Her husband twined one of his eye-stalks tenderly around the baby's, who twined back eagerly. "I think she has Sha'Zak's eyes, though," he observed.

Qwet'Zel tickled the baby under her mouth, causing her to giggle, and Trip stiffened. _She only did that for me_ , he wailed in his mind.

"No sucking," Glee'Zon said sternly, pulling away the tentacle the baby had snuck up to her lips, and Malcolm stopped breathing. _Oh, G-d, they're taking our baby,_ was the only thought racing through Malcolm's head. The two officers' hands found each other almost instinctively, frantically clutching behind their backs.

"Captain, we can't begin to thank you for all you've done," Glee'Zon said earnestly, as his wife continued to coo at the baby.

"It was really no trouble at all," Archer assured them, subtly stepping in front of his officers, whom he feared were about to have a meltdown. "I'm so sorry for your loss—the baby's parents."

Glee'Zon's eye-stalks bobbed in what Archer interpreted as a nod. "My brother loved exploring new places," he said, his voice a little thicker. The three enormous eyes were looking moister as well. "If he had to... die before his time, I'm glad he and his wife were doing something they loved."

"And that Deel'Zel was spared," his wife added protectively. "You've managed to care for her so wonderfully—it must have been difficult, you're so... different."

Archer thought he saw her husband give her a bit of a look, but he smiled pleasantly and replied, "Our mission here is to meet new people and try to understand them, no matter how different we are from them. And I have a... remarkable crew to carry out that mission."

"Yes, I understood that two of your officers crashed on that planet as well," Qwet'Zel noted with concern. "Were they harmed?"

"Not at all," Archer assured her. "In fact"—and he gave in to his burning pride and stepped aside a bit, forcing Trip and Malcolm back into the spotlight—"they managed to care for the baby for several days before we could find them. Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed?" Trip tried to smile; Malcolm just bit his lip.

"Thank you so much," Qwet'Zel told them sincerely. She carefully handed the baby to her husband and reached out one tentacle-hand around Malcolm's neck and one around Trip's. They both patted her back a bit awkwardly, unsure how else to respond to the interspecies hug. There were definitely more than three moist eyes in the group when she pulled back.

"Um, now, Captain," Glee'Zon reminded them, "I believe you said something about tests? Or questions?"

"We don't intend any offense," Archer promised quickly. "It's just, before we turn the baby over to someone, we want to be sure—"

"Oh, let them have her." Surprisingly this slightly broken statement came from Malcolm, who had turned away from the group.

"Uh, Malcolm?" Archer asked hesitantly, glancing at the Maltaxans.

"What he means is, you seem like real nice folks," Trip explained, swallowing a few times in the middle. "And, uh, your government sent us all that identification stuff already, so..."

"That's very considerate of you, Commander Tucker," Glee'Zon noted. "Lieutenant Reed."

"Um, here," Trip mumbled, stepping forward. "We-we made her this toy, she seems to like it..." He shook the rattle lightly before the baby's eyes and she burbled and twined her tentacles around it. The Maltaxans looked at the toy with curiosity but said nothing.

"And, um," Malcolm added, not making eye contact as he approached, "this is a song she likes to hear sometimes, when she's fussy." He handed Glee'Zon a small data pad. "It seems to calm her."

"Thank you," the alien repeated. "You've all taken such good care of her."

"Could I—" Trip reached for the baby tentatively.

"Of course," Qwet'Zel replied immediately, handing her back to Trip.

He stared down at her, tickling her one last time, letting her curl her eye-stalks around his fingers. "Good-bye, Pinky," he told her quietly, a little smile on his face. "Malcolm?"

Trip slid the baby into Malcolm's arms, and for a brief, wild moment, Archer was sure he was going to make a run for it. But instead he just stroked her tentacles and gave her a kiss in the soft spot between her mouth and her eye-stalks, then handed her back to Qwet'Zel. He didn't seem to trust himself to speak.

Glee'Zon and Qwet'Zel took their leave of the Captain and turned, heading for the airlock again. Qwet'Zel turned the baby so she was looking back at the officers, her eye-stalks twining with her aunt's. Archer could have sworn she waved good-bye with her tentacles.

The thunk of the airlock door shutting seemed to bring the finality of the loss home. Trip looked up at the ceiling in a half-hearted attempt to keep his eyes from overflowing, while Malcolm looked everywhere but at anyone else. Sensing that they needed a moment alone, Archer cleared his throat and announced, "I'll just be on the Bridge, if you need me," and vanished.

Trip nodded, taking Malcolm's hand again. "We're gonna be great parents someday, Malcolm," he stated firmly, looking out the window where the Maltaxan ship was already pulling away from _Enterprise_.

"I just hope we don't name the rest of our children after their color," Malcolm choked out.

Trip laughed and put his arm around Malcolm's shoulders, pulling him into a hug. "We couldn't agree on the color anyway," he added.


End file.
